Spark of Insanity
by Eliptikus
Summary: A collection of one shots about Camelot. All characters can make an appearance - depends on my inspiration ! - Humour and Parody all the way! No slash! just as much as in the show...


**Hey everyone! I really got into Merlin a few months ago and I have several ideas for one shots, thus I start a collection of one shots! =D...well, I only continue it if you guys like it...some are completely insane, some are less insane...  
**

**I don't own Merlin (oh, if only I did...)**

****This one is not so insane, I think...

**The Importance of Being Merlin**

Arthur was slogging through the forest with a huge party of servants. It'd been hours since noon and they were still chasing the stag. It was utterly important to catch the beauty, as they were about to serve it as the main course at the feast tomorrow.

It would be more than embarrassing to greet Sir Lionel and his party with a tiny chicken that was caught in the castle courtyard the previous day! No. Arthur wanted to prove that he was worthy of his new title. And what could be more conclusive than slaughtering a stag with your bare hands?

The honour of the kingdom was depending on the success of this hunting trip.

And for that reason, it was strictly forbidden for Merlin to attend the trip.

Well, truth is that when Arthur had announced his intentions of going on a hunt, Merlin had started his usual whining about fluffy animals, crossbows, spears and about the injustice in the world, but this time – instead of calling Merlin insulting names and making him go anyway – Arthur had let him stay home.

Because whenever Merlin accompanied Arthur on a hunting trip (which was like _always_), he made sure that they would return with no catch at all – maybe with one or two hares (which the other servants had caught).

If Arthur was honest with himself, it was not _entirely _Merlin's infinite babbling that was responsible for scaring the animals away, Arthur's retorts were just as loud (or even louder) as Merlin's yammering.

Yes. Hunting had lost its original purpose a long time before for Arthur. In the last couple of years, going _hunting _meant having friendly banter with Merlin in the daytime and somewhat more serious (even wise!) discussions at night by the intimate atmosphere of the fire.

Thinking about it, even Arthur realized that putting up this facade only to spend some _quality time_ with Merlin – without publicly acknowledging him as his trusted friend – was getting ridiculous. And sometimes (especially when hearing the accompanying servants cursing whilst forcing their way through the bushes) he felt a pang of guilt that he dragged another fifteen people in bonus for that reason.

But this time it was different. No Merlin. No distracting chit chatting. It was time for the instincts to kick in.

And they did.

Arthur suddenly spotted the stag about fifty feet away in front of him.

He stopped and with a wave of his hand signed for the others to slow their steps and follow him carefully.

Although he would have never admitted it, Arthur felt more nervous than usual. He really wanted to bring this manly beast home…

He slowly –_ very_ slowly so that he wouldn't disturb the carelessly browsing animal by any chance – lifted his crossbow and pointed it at his target.

He was just about to shoot when he heard a sharp crack from his right.

A young servant boy – an extremely clumsy one as it seems – had fallen up in a branch.

Irritated by the prospect of missing the prey, he glared at the boy and shushed him.

Then, thinking that the issue was settled, Arthur lifted his crossbow again, but he couldn't lose his arrow as he was interrupted…by the boy, again.

Said boy, after having been shot daggers at him by the eyes of the king himself, gathered all the things he had dropped and straightened up as quickly as he could. His cheeks were burning with embarrassment but after thinking for a moment, his face lightened up. Clearly something so witty popped into his head that he _just_ had to share it with the world. And after a moment pause, he addressed his master…

„Try stealing across the forest while carrying all the equipment, you fat dollop head!"

Everything halted in the forest. Beaters. Servants. The men on horseback. Even the stag lifted its head to see what could gain all the attention that had been once directed at him.

Arthur also stopped dead in his tracks. For long moments he was just staring forward, then – while still pointing the crossbow at the stag – turned his head to look at the insolent (or just simply _stupid_, who knows?) servant.

Long minutes had passed as Arthur was staring at him expectantly, clearly waiting for him to drop to his knees and start pleading for his life.

That didn't happen. The boy couldn't even bark a _'Sorry'_! He was just staring back at him.

Arthur glanced around to see if the others were looking. Of course they were.

Everyone was staring back and forth between the two of them until all eyes were fixed on Arthur, waiting for the king's wrath to strike. Well, all except Gwain, the only knight attending the trip. While the servants were holding their breath in fear for their fellow, Gwain was busy trying to keep giggling as minimum as possible. But by the look of Arthur's infuriated expression Gwain quickly realized that the boy's life was in serious danger, so he stopped with the girly giggling and was, too, watching the scene intently.

Observing the boy's face got Arthur startled to say the least, not only could he find no remorse at all but there was a strange smug smile on the idiot's face. Did he _not _realize what he'd just called his king?

Maybe he did, because the smile slowly faded away and was replaced by sheer shock.

_Good, that is more appropriate for the situation! – _Arthur thought. But then he realized that now everyone was expecting him to react to (aka punish) the boy's insolence.

The king tore his eyes from the boy to glance around once more, everyone was waiting in eager anticipation, some even in fear. They were probably afraid that he'd shoot the boy.

Arthur was seriously pondering that option for a moment, to turn his crossbow and bring the boy home as the glorious prey instead of the stag.

No. He couldn't do that. That would reflect on him as a bad king. Besides, the punishment wouldn't fit the crime at all. In which category did _his crime_ belong anyway?

Should he put him in the stocks for a day? No, that would be too light. After all, he called the head of the state fat and a dollop head…Wait! _dollop head?_

That was when realization struck Arthur.

Oh, yes. As almost everything, this was also Merlin's fault. Merlin and his stupid, humourless name-calling! Arthur usually wasn't particularly bothered by it, he'd got used to it (he'd had to!) over the years, he only wished Merlin could have kept his insubordination between the four walls of Arthur's chamber…

Everything made sense now! This boy was obviously a new member of the serving staff and didn't know about the unwritten rule that just because Merlin called the king disrespectful and offensive names, it didn't mean others could do it as well.

Was there really such _rule_? As it seemed, there was, and it highly concerned Arthur!

The solution was obvious, in order to avoid awkward situations like this, all of Merlin's honorifics, like clotpole…dollop head…prat, had to go!

Yes. As soon as they returned home, he would make a public declaration, stating that all forms of address of the king, other than _sire, your highness, your majesty, my lord, my liege_, are banned for the Peoples of Camelot. (_Peoples of Camelot _meaning his incompetent manservant, but it was better to go with more formal terms…)

Arthur mentally clapped himself on the back for solving the problem so efficiently without having any advisors around.

But Arthur's joy vanished as quickly as it came, because what could assure that Merlin would obey the rule? Or _any_ rule for that matter?

Arthur had spent two months trying to break in his (back then) new manservant. He'd sent Merlin to the stocks almost every day for his insolence, had him mucking out the stables twice a day to teach him that throwing his belongings behind the chest was _not_ equal to cleaning , he had once made Merlin stand at the door for a whole day, practicing knocking and the proper way of entering a room.

But nothing had worked. What was more, the harder Arthur had tried, the more stubborn Merlin had become!

Arthur had learnt that it was better to let such things as the mannerism of a proper servant go, otherwise Merlin would rebel in his clumsy, idiotic way, causing only more trouble…

Based on years of experience, Arthur just knew how Merlin would react to the prohibition of his favourite pet names. His insolence would lose all limits (assuming that it had ever had any).

Arthur gripped his crossbow instinctively as an absurd, but nevertheless frightening picture started to unfold in his mind;

_Arthur and his counsellors sitting at one side of the table in the throne room, a king and his party from one of the neighbouring kingdoms sitting at the other side, discussing a treaty that can be a turning point in the history of Camelot. When all of a sudden the doors burst open, Merlin comes in (late as ever) and skips around the room gleefully, screaming inexplicable things not only to him, but other members of the court as well._

_That_ can never happen!

Arthur shrugged and snapped out of his musing. He took in his surrounding once again.

He was surprised to see that nothing had changed, people were still standing as statues, none of them even blinked!

Although the boy (whose life was in question – but not really) was going through visible changes, his face got a lot paler and his body started trembling slightly.

Arthur, not able to stand the tension of the situation anymore, let out a huge sigh and dropped his crossbow to the ground. At this point he was not angry with the boy at all, and if he hadn't been the almighty king of Camelot that he was, he would have burst out laughing at the irony of this scene.

He moved toward the boy slowly, with his hands held up to suggest that he wasn't going to hurt him (all sudden movements were critical as the boy was at the verge of having a heart attack).

When he reached the boy, he put his arm around his shoulder (this provoked a loud gasp from the crowd – did they really think that he was going to choke the boy?) and led the servant away from the others.

Arthur had never been a man of words but this time it was extremely hard to find the proper way of expressing himself.

He had to choose his words wisely in order to make sure that this boy or any other citizen of Camelot would not dare address him like that ever again, but at the same time, he had to keep Merlin's granted (for _whatever_ reason) and unquestionable right of using his nicknames…

„Listen…uhm"

„Tom, si-sire" – Tom (as it turns out) could barely whisper the words. He was trembling like a caged bird under the king's arm.

„Listen, Tom. I know you deeply regret your previous words…" – Arthur started nodding slowly, hoping that Tom would be smart enough to do the same. Fortunately he was.

„Ye-yes, my lord."

„I believe that the previous incident" – he motioned behind his back – „was just a result of a simple misunderstanding."

Tom perked his head up in curiosity, and it became obvious to Arthur that the boy really had no_ clue_ what was wrong with calling the king a _dollop head_. He probably had tried to achieve the same effect as Merlin.

It hadn't work. Arthur wasn't very keen on hearing insults from Merlin, but taking it from someone else was even worse. It just didn't feel right…

Before he would've continued, he leaned closer (if that was possible considering he was still holding Tom in the grip of his arm) so that the crowd, whose members were highly interested in their conversation, would not hear him.

„My manservant, _Mer_lin…" – he clenched his teeth with anger when he said his name, after all he was the reason Arthur was in such a mess, and he couldn't even ease his rage by shouting at him since he wasn't there! – „has his way of calling me…these names because…uhm…"

Arthur desperately tried to squeeze a proper excuse out of his brain. Defending something that you hate yourself, too, proved itself to be rather difficult…

Eventually Arthur came up with something. Something that had always worked.

„He has a _grave_ mental affliction." – Tom looked at him sceptically, so he continued – „it's true, Gaius can prove me on that one."

„Merlin has been my servant for many years and I got used to his antics…there's actually a system in his rambles, we use them as…codes on hunting trips and quests."

Apparently, Arthur wasn't as quiet as he intended to be because after his last statement, Gwain gave a loud snort. Arthur decided to ignore it and went on.

„So I'd appreciate it if you addressed me in a more traditional manner in the future. Is that understood?"

„Of course, sire."

Arthur smiled in relief and gave Tom a squeeze in his joy, but it only made the boy stir in fear.

Arthur found it was best to release the jittery servant and turned around to address the whole hunting party.

„The issue has been settled. We shall _never__"_– he stopped and sent a meaningful gaze to the people – „speak of it again."

They couldn't rejoice for long, however, as the stag had taken its chance and fled while Arthur had been chewing on his thoughts.

They spent the entire afternoon in the forest but caught the stag eventually (thanks to Tom's sharp eyes, actually) and could return in glory.

…

Tom was rushing down the corridor in the East wing of the castle. There was nothing he wanted more than to be in his chamber. In safety.

He'd never been this close to death as today! And all because of a foolish remark he'd made. He'd only wanted to make up for disturbing his majesty in hunting, so he'd decided to use Merlin's strategy (as it'd always seemed to work for him) and borrowed one of his witty retorts.

But it'd been a bad idea. The king clearly hadn't been fond of it.

Tom didn't know why, though. King Arthur had provided some sort of explanation but Tom had understood only a few words because all he'd been able to hear was the heavy thumping of blood in his ears…the king had said something about Merlin having some sort of brain damage. Tom found this strange as he'd already talked to Merlin a couple of times and he seemed to be completely healthy…

Tom finally reached his small room, he quickly shut the door behind himself and let out a huge sigh. He stood there, with his back pressed to the door for a few minutes when he spotted a piece of paper on his small desk.

He eyed the note suspiciously from afar. The thought that it was a letter from the king saying: _His highness has changed his mind about your granted royal pardon. Tom Smith, your execution is due at dawn, tomorrow – _crossed his mind. He winced at the idea.

Tom took the courage to have a closer look at the note after all, and he was surprised and somewhat amused when he read it…

_Tom, I've heard about your encounter with the prat in the woods. I know how grumpy the dollop head can be when he's on his quest to slaughter animals… I also know that it's my fault you got into trouble in the first place, my friend. So tonight all rounds of ale that you're drinking in the tavern is on me. Give my regards to Sir Gwain when you meet him there, will you?_

_Merlin_

Well, he could do with a few tankards of ale at end of this stressful day…

**AN: So? What do you think?**


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